


A Kind Of Ease To It

by gala_apples



Series: Get Glee Laid [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marijuana, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every drug user wants to think they’re their dealer’s best friend, their favourite. Nine times out of ten the user is completely delusional, but Puck thinks it might actually be true in his case. The four of them only hang out when they’re high, but Brittany and Kurt are always high and he and Santana aren’t that much better.</p><p>Set during 1x09- Wheels</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kind Of Ease To It

Puck’s at his locker when Kurt stops beside him. Puck doesn’t shove Kurt, like he would have ten times out of ten all of freshman year. He just waits with a raised eyebrow for whatever snarky comment Kurt is about to say.

“Just in case you wanted feedback, those weed cupcakes were delicious.”

Puck stares at Kurt. “What?”

Kurt looks back at him, entirely unimpressed. “You heard me.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I’m not a moron?”

Okay, it’s reasonable to say Hummel’s smarter than a lot of McKinley’s students. William McKinley’s not exactly a magnet school. But Puck still can’t make the leap from intelligence to being able to taste weed in cake. “No, really. How?”

Kurt starts walking towards the parking lot, apparently sure that Puck’s curiosity will make him follow. It’s a good assumption, Puck does. “I know what weed cupcakes taste like. Good ones. In the last year I’ve perfected my recipe. The one I bought from you to support Artie was comparable.”

Puck couldn’t feel more stunned if Barack Obama sneaked up behind him to whack him in the face with an elk. “You... You smoke?” 

Kurt sniffs. “April Rhodes was hardly the first to come up with the concept of numbing yourself to get through a day. Actually, looking back I believe that’s why I got sick. I shouldn’t have combined the two.”

“You smoke at school?” Shit, and he’d thought he was badass for buying on school property. If Kurt is telling the truth, that’s not anything.

“Not most days. But I have an emergency joint if I get a particularly bad dumpstering.”

“So you’re like, stealth friends with Brett?” Brett Leifson is the only person Puck knows who’s consistently high.

“You buy from Sandy Ryerson. Obviously.”

“Yeah?” He’s right. He just didn’t answer Puck’s question.

“I buy from Brick at my dad’s shop. He has much better product. Well, I occasionally buy from Brett, if Brick is dry, whom I’m well aware buys from Sandy Ryerson. But at least that way I don’t have to go near him. He creeps me out.”

“He creeps everyone out.”

“True. But he thinks I’m available. With you it’d be rape, even in his eyes. He thinks I want it.”

Puck scowls. “That’s fucked up.”

“Hence Brick.”

The name hits him the second time it’s said. “Wait, Brick Pierce?”

“I don’t know his last name, I don’t write the paychecks. Probably? How many men named Brick can there be in Lima Ohio?”

“It’s gotta be. I’m hitching a ride you.”

“I was actually planning on going home, to practice for the Diva Off, but if you simply must know, fine. I’ll give you a ride to the shop. Provided you stop buying from Sandy Ryerson. I’d really rather no one I know get caught in his web, even if it’s my enemy.”

“Dude, I’m not your enemy. I stopped saying fag and calling Glee Homo Explosion and Den of Fairies. And I haven’t dumpstered you in weeks.”

“Congratulations on being a decent human being. And get in the car.” 

Puck gets in the passenger seat. It might not be the best move for his rep, but he can always give someone a black eye or chip a tooth if they have anything to say. It’s a short drive, less than ten minutes before they’re parking behind the garage and walking through the back.

“You’re Brittany’s older brother.” Puck says the instant he sees the man in question. He doesn’t know how Kurt didn’t see it. Aside from the dyed black hair they’re practically identical.

“Yeah, and?”

“Wanna sell to me? Since we’re like one degree of separation, and my dealer is a creep?”

Brick shakes his head. “If you know her, buy from her. Kurt I know you know Brit too. She likes Glee, when she’s not trying to be a mole. I think half the time she thinks it’s literal. By all means, Kurt, buy from her. For me this is pocket change. For her it’s her allowance.”

“What?”

“Our parents run a grow op. Our allowance is given in grams, not dollars.”

“You’re serious?”

Brick shrugs. “Who are you going to tell? Besides, the op’s not in the basement. If you did decide you were on The Man’s side, what could you really say?”

Puck snorts. “I’ve almost been arrested like fifteen times. I want the weed, and I don’t care about your parents business. Besides the fact that I’ve known Brittany years and she’s never said anything.”

“You never got the impression she’s perma-stoned?” Brick chuckles. “Right or wrong, our house is in a constant state of hotboxed, and has been since I was a kid. But maybe you have to be looking for it to see it. Anyway, go buy from her. Give her a twenty for some cat toys or something.”

“Just drop me off at Brit’s,” Puck says as they leave. It should maybe be phrased like a question, but whatever. He’s not known for manners, and Kurt’s already taken him this far.

Kurt drives him over, the ride again quiet except for tracks three and part of four on this weird Diva mix cd. Instead of idling he parks and gets out too, explaining that he’s nearly dry.

Brittany answers the door with a smile. “Are we having rehearsal at my house today? Lord Tubbington won’t like Tina. He hates vampires.”

“We want to buy from you,” Puck says, ignoring everything she’s just said. Sometimes you have to with her. Her words don’t seem rational enough to just be being stoned, but Brittany’s surrounded by adults that would help her, get her diagnosed if they felt she needed it. He’s thought about it a few times, and as always he just lets it slide. Not his problem.

“One sec.” Brittany pulls out her phone. “Hi San. Puck and Kurt wanna buy. He didn’t say. Okay. Love you.” Brittany hangs up. “She’ll be here soon. I’m not allowed to sell without her here. Wanna get high while we wait?”

“Wouldn’t dream of saying no,” Kurt replies for them both.

Brittany hustles them into a living room area. The flowery wallpaper is normal, if a bit old fashioned. The huge U shaped white suede sectional is normal, if a bit stained. The life sized Bob Ross wood carved statue is not normal, nor are the sheer number of mobiles hanging from the ceiling, or the paper mache swan sitting on top of the box tv. There’s pan flute music coming from somewhere. Puck can’t tell where, he doesn’t see a laptop or cd player anywhere.

“I’ll sit in the middle, so I can get both your mouths.”

The comment doesn’t make sense, but he sits on one side of Brittany as Kurt gets the other anyway. Brittany pulls a wooden box from the underside of the coffee table. Inside it are at least an ounce’s worth of dimebags, as well as a butane lighter and two different pipes. Brittany picks out the bigger glass pipe and pushes almost an entire gram’s worth of weed into the bowl. Her lips narrow over the hole as she closes her eyes. Kurt’s the perfect gentleman lighting the weed for her, and she inhales deeply. Impressively deeply, though it makes sense when you figure her hobbies are shouting while exercising, singing, and blowjobs. Her lungs are probably double the capacity of the average guy Puck shoves into a locker.

That’s when she turns and plants her lips on his. Once she’s sure their lips are as sealed as possible she blows the smoke into his mouth. The concept of shotgunning has never made much sense to Puck. Somebody else is sucking the smoke down, letting it fill their lungs. By the time it’s exhaled surely all the delightful toxins have been stolen. But if that’s how Brittany like to get high Puck will follow her example of smoking. Since she’s his new supplier making her upset would be a shitty idea. Especially if she’s still upset by the time Santana arrives to complete the transaction.

Puck goes to school the next day with full intentions of smoking up with some of the football players after school. Not those putzes Karofsky and Azimio, they don’t deserve to mooch. Some of the more neutral guys. Tanaka’s shitfit forced everyone to make their alliances clear, and everyone knows which way he and Mike and Matt went. Finn was a bitch about it, until he put on his leader-face and made Tanaka take it back, but the damage was done. Puck’s got a bit of damage control to do, and that starts with getting guys like Dewey and Ford and Birchwood stoned to prove he’s still a badass.

The roughly sketched plan crashes into the sea when Kurt bombs the Diva Off. Everyone fake claps and Kurt reacts exactly the way that he used to when Puck and Azimio used to corner him for a dumpstering; like he knew this was coming and he’s just gotta get through the next five minutes and the rest of the day will be better. It makes Puck wonder for a second if Kurt knew he was going to bomb. But no, Kurt’s got enough of an ego that he wouldn’t have brought the whole thing up if he didn’t think he’d win.

Puck corners him as they’re all leaving. “I guess you’re going to go home and blaze up?”

“Why do you assume that?”

“Well one, you made it seem like your regular thing. Two, after a loss like that to Rachel _Gandhi_ would need to smoke up.”

Kurt looks at him. “I thought you liked her. You dated her.”

“I do like her. Doesn’t mean she’s a good person to lose to. She’s the worst sport ever, and that’s coming from a guy who used to egg the Titan’s opponents.”

“Yes. The answer is yes. I’ll need to be stoned to have that conversation with my father.”

Puck slaps his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, trying not to take the instinctive flinch personally. Just because he’s changed doesn’t mean he doesn’t have history to overcome, doesn’t mean Kurt will suddenly acknowledge his change. “Come over to mine.”

“What?”

“Come smoke at my house. Misery likes company, right?”

He’s expecting Kurt to ask why he’s miserable, or even to tell him off with snark about someone so low class not making for good company. He’s not expecting an archly stated “fine. Whatever.”

Halfway through their first bowl Puck thinks to text Santana. Everything else he’s ever texted to her has been dirty, but this is just an offer to get stoned. Pity for Kurt aside, it’s kinda gay to hang out with a gay guy alone in your bedroom. Santana’s counter offer is that they both come over to Brittany’s. Puck says yes on behalf of both of them, then spends the next ten minutes convincing Kurt it’s what he wants to do. He does, Puck’s sure of it. Drinking alone is depressing and leads to suicide. Puck can’t say toking does the same, but it’s gotta be less depressing to do it with friends. And he’s right. Within five minutes of entering Brittany’s room he’s already laughing at Brit’s cat trying to fit in a box.

After that it becomes sort of a routine. At school they are who they are; violent jock, lesbian-for-pay cheerleaders, impeccably dressed queer. But then they all go to Brittany’s after school. Puck’s apartment has Sarah, Santana’s has her grandmother, Kurt’s has pictures of his mom in every room. But Brick works evening shift, and whatever Mr and Mrs Pierce are doing at four in the afternoon, it’s not puttering around in their house. At Brittany’s they have space, and alone together they smoke up. It makes them better people. People that can be friends, not just various members of a team.

When Kurt’s stoned he stops flinching when someone gets inside his personal bubble. Puck understands why Kurt flinches at school. He was the cause of it, until he wasn’t, and he still doesn’t stop it from happening, just doesn’t join in. It’s nice to see him relax.

Santana relaxes too. Like him, she’s always turned to the angry side of the spectrum, not Kurt’s scared. On her relaxed means her one liners are a little less witty, a little less funny, and a hundred percent less cruel.

Puck’s basic modes are angry and horny. Once the pot enters his system he switches definitively to track two. It’s not his fault; the Pierces grow a sativa strain. It’s not the best reaction he could have. It makes Puck want to jerk off the entire time he’s hanging out. He doesn’t, but not for the reasons that would make sense to him sober. It’s not because he’s scared of Kurt trying to cop a feel. It’s because when they’re all stoned San and Brit feel comfortable enough to make out without asking for something in return. As far as Puck knows they hardly ever fool around just because they wants to. Jerking off would make it about him, and stoned he can see how uncool that is.

The day everything changes starts off with a single tiny change. Normally it’s Brittany blowing smoke into his mouth, cheeks puffed. It always almost makes Puck laugh, her cheeks pink and ballooned at odds with the pristine ponytail and pretty makeup. He never does laugh, it would waste what precious little THC might be in the smoke. Sometimes it’s Santana, though for some reason she seems more prone to blowing the smoke into Kurt’s mouth. Sometimes it’s him, blowing into either of the girl’s mouths. 

It’s not like it’s any big statement. It’s just Kurt is the one with the mouthful of smoke and he angles his head towards Puck instead of Brittany. It’s just that Puck doesn’t scramble back and make a big deal about Kurt turning in the wrong direction.

It’s just that after Puck inhales all of what Kurt has, he leans in for a second kiss.

“I don’t have another hoot,” Kurt says, confused.

“I just want- Can’t I just want-”

Kurt doesn’t bother to tell him they’ll both regret this when they’re sober. It’s true, but Puck doesn’t care right now, and Kurt doesn’t appear to either.

Puck falls onto his back on one of the long legs of the couch and Kurt crawls on top of him. He happily lets Kurt’s hands roam over his thighs and under his t-shirt as they kiss. He doesn’t quite rut up into Kurt, but he doesn’t hold back when Kurt pushes his own dick against Puck’s.

It’s not until Kurt starts unbuckling his belt that Puck pulls away. Not far, just enough to get a word in. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish. You’re the only virgin in the room.”

Kurt’s the only guy that can sound so freakin’ haughty with an erection. “I plan to both start and finish a handjob, if that suits you.”

“Sounds good to me, Santana says cheerfully from where she and Brittany are situated on the other leg. Clearly she doesn’t have the same opinions about not getting in the way of other people fooling around. Puck would scowl, except Kurt doesn’t seem put off by the words at all. 

Kurt succeeds in opening his belt, and then he laughs. Puck shivers. It’s not that a belly laugh in itself is sexy, it’s that Kurt is willing to do that here. “Commando? Really?”

“Some people aren’t the underwear type,” Santana answers for him.

“Underwear is stupid,” Brittany adds. “Unless you’re on your period, or it’s lace.”

“You’re all so...” Kurt trails off, and then curls his fingers around Puck’s dick. He sits on Puck’s thighs and his face is such pure concentration that it almost hurts to look at.

“Have fun, would you?”

Kurt stops momentarily. “This is my ‘I’m having fun’ face,” he replies, then goes back to working Puck’s cock.

Puck knows it’s not. He doesn’t know when he learned Kurt well enough to read his expressions, but he can. Maybe he couldn’t do it sober, but stoned he can do it like blinking. He just doesn’t know how to fix this, aside from telling Kurt he doesn’t have to. And that will just make things worse, because Kurt knows he doesn’t have to, he’ll just get snippy if Puck says it. He’ll probably assume that the words mean Puck doesn’t want him to anymore, because virgins are sensitive about that sort of thing.

“Kurt you’re really hot,” Brittany calls out. 

Puck thought that went without saying, but the look of surprise on Kurt’s face before he laughs again says maybe not. Maybe that’s the sort of thing Puck should be saying anyway, even if it is obvious. Maybe if he’d just said that then Quinn wouldn’t have- but no. Quinn’s not here, just like nothing else from school is.

“I aim to please, Brit,” Kurt replies, and this is abundantly clear to Puck when he decides to use his other hand to cradle his balls. Puck’s got a _thing_ with his balls, and so many girls just ignore them completely.

Puck doesn’t realise how enthusiastic he’s being about Kurt touching his balls until Santana speaks up again. She’s closer than she was before, at some point she and Brit must have moved to the middle part of the couch. “Honey, I want you to make me make the noises that Kurt’s making Puck make.”

“Your voices are different.”

“Just make me moan the way he is.”

After that there’s too much to focus on. There’s Kurt’s left hand, and Kurt’s right hand, and the way his mouth feels so fucking dry from smoking. There’s Kurt’s pretty face, still concentrating, but in a happier, hornier way, and his bright red eyes because Kurt gets the worst stoners eyes of the four of them. There’s the bulge in Kurt’s pants, and how much Puck wants to unwrap him from his pretty pretty clothing and touch him. There’s Brittany, squeezed between the coffee table and the couch like that stupid Japanese cat that fits into boxes. There’s Brittany’s hand, up her skirt. There’s Santana sitting up, legs spread on either side of Brittany like the best split he’s ever seen a cheerleader do. Puck’s too stoned to take all of it in, but if he was sober this would never be happening, so looking at one thing for three seconds then moving on to the next totally awesome completely sexy thing is a great compromise.

Puck returns the favour, of course. It would be shitty if he didn’t. As soon as he comes -the third in the room to, but from the continuation of the wet noises he won’t be the second last orgasm- he starts to return the favour. His arms are heavy but he raises them to get Kurt’s own belt undone. Once that’s done, and the zipper’s down, all it takes is for Kurt to rise up a little and pull down his pants and underwear. Puck has time to think that Kurt must really want this if he’s willing to wrinkle his pants before Kurt knee walks a bit closer so it’s easier for Puck to reach.

Kurt’s circumcised too, so it’s really doesn’t feel all that different. It’s just a weird angle, like Puck woke up this morning with his dick attached backwards. Kurt tenses as soon as he grabs his cock. “I’ve never-”

“Yeah, I know. Just say stop if you want. Except don’t say stop because I really don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Kurt whispers.

“Good,’ Santana says loudly, voice half a growl from what Brittany’s still doing to her. “And be more vocal. Vocal’s hot.”

Either Kurt’s trying for Santana, or he’s just naturally loud. Whatever it is, Kurt groans on every upstroke. After the third Puck stops kissing him, just to listen. When he’s moaning his voice is even breathier, even girlier. But any girl comparison Puck could make is utterly smashed by the cock in his hand. There’s no looking past a dick in hand. 

It doesn’t take Kurt very long to come. That too isn’t a girl thing, virgin girls take forever to get into it. Guys on the other hand- reading between the lines of stories told in the locker room, half of them didn’t even get inside their first girl before they shot off. Kurt’s done pretty well for himself, when Puck thinks about it.

“You wanna flop down on top of me?” He knows better than to pull Kurt down. But if Kurt wants to snuggle for a bit, it would be cool. Especially if he could convince Santana to roll a joint for them, so they could smoke without sitting up.

Kurt shakes his head and moves backwards to sit a little below Puck’s knees. “I’m not freaking out. I just need a minute.”

“You know where I am,” Puck says with a smile.

It’s been awhile since he’s had sex with Santana. Now that Kurt’s taken care of he really wants to make her come, never mind that Brittany’s already done it twice. It’s the best thing about girls, that once you get them into the mood they can stay there forever. Puck gets up and sits on the opposite corner of the couch, where Brittany was twenty minutes ago. He’s got an idea, so he taps Brittany on the shoulder. She immediately gets the tap out gesture. A bit of a miracle, really. Once she crawls away he grabs Santana by the hips and hauls her over and up until his face is right in her cunt. God bless cheerleaders and their nimbleness.

Evidently he’s not the only one with ideas. The next thing he hears is Kurt’s stammering. “What? Brittany what are-”

“You haven’t come twice yet. When you actually like someone you make them come twice.”

“I’m gay.”

Puck would bet Santana’s rolling her eyes when she speaks up. “Just let her try. Doesn’t mean you’re straight. You could never be straight.” Puck laughs into her folds then adjusts his hands on her hips as she squirms. It must be the vibrations. He’s never laughed a girl to orgasm before but he wants to try.

Puck eats her out through a third orgasm. Loving the way Santana clenches down and tightens up he fingers her open through a fourth. She’s a wreck by the time Kurt’s whimpering and Brittany lets out a triumphant “hah!”

He stops then, pulls away from her a few feet. He’s still hard, but he’s been hard on and off since that first day. Puck can be the bigger man and let it go. Insisting on more when the three of them are obviously done would just make him a jerk. That’s something he tries not to be, here.

“So that was fucking amazing,” Santana says proudly, like the sex was all her idea. “I need a cigarette.”

“I need a joint. I had sex with a girl, I need a joint the size of my arm.”

Brittany smiles, chin still wet from sloppily sucking dick. “Clowns stole my papers. I can pack the bong?”

Puck grins. It’s a stubborn grin, whether or not anyone takes that meaning from it. He refuses to regret this. If he has to be stoned from now until the day he dies to not react negatively, that’s what he’ll do.


End file.
